What Hurts the Most
by Luxor Nautalis
Summary: It was killing her; sitting here, doing nothing. She couldn't take it anymore. The pain...it was too much. Rizzles one-shot


**Disclaimer;** I do not own Rizzoli and Isles, their characters, their plot, theme or names, and I do not claim ownership to them.

**Authors Note:** So, I wrote this a while ago and just now decided to post it. Most of you Rizzles fans will probably hate me for writing it, but I just had to. This fic is strongly based on the song What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flats and I would recommend listening to it while you read.

**Rating;** T

**Pair;** Maura x Jane

She hadn't moved in what seemed like days. Their apartment - no - _her _apartment smelled ripe from mistreatment, and she was in no way contributing to that smell. She had, in fact, barely moved in days.

It was Monday. She was due back to work in an hour, and she still didn't stir. Her apartment was silent, ghostly so, only the sound of the frig's engine echoing through the rooms. Her bedroom had been abandoned...she couldn't bring herself to step foot into the room that still smelled so strongly of her. The scent of Cinnamon and vanilla clung to the drapes, the sheets, the carpet, the walls. It was permanent.

She looked worse for wear. Her hair, usually neatly brushed and hanging loosly around her shoulders was in an unappealing dissaray, greasy and tangled. She couldn't bother with a brush. Her typical lean, lithe form was a bit more lithe than usual. Weight loss had been drastic and gave her a sickening look, but she couldn't eat...every time she tried to force something down her throat, her body rejected it. Her eyes were bloodshot and red, swollen and burning. Dark bruises colored the underside of her them.

She couldn't sleep. Every time she tried, every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was her face. The beautiful smile she would flash when something was funny, or the glint that light her eyes as her mouth spewed useless information about the strangest topics. She slept only when her body forced her too, and even then she woke only hours after, sweaty and sobbing from the dreams that haunted her.

The ringing of her phone startled her, but she payed it no heed. She couldn't summon strength enough to move and answer it. After a few more rings, the tone died down, and if she could, she would have heaved a sigh of relief. That is, until the sound of her house phone once more broke the silence. Still, she made no move to answer. The machine could get it.

_Hi, you've reached Jane and Maura Rizzoli. We can't come to the phone right now, probably because we're having sex, so please leave a message and we'll consider getting back to you! _

_JANE!_Maura's indignant and embarrassed voice called scolded and her own rich, throaty and unfamiliar laughter followed just before the beep sounded. The sound of her voice echoed in her ears, and still, she blankly stared, ignoring the sound and the mention of the name that haunted her dreams as much as the face it belonged to.

"Jane, it's me. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you're supposed to come back today...If you're not..feeling up to it, just call me and I'll get the lieu to extend your leave."

_"Maura?" she asked softly, her raspy voice a tad scratchier than usual._

_"Hmm?" came the sleep-ridden answer, even as the woman she held in her protective embrace hovered on the brink of sleep._

_"Do you ever think about the future?" She paused, her voice holding enough uncertainty to cause the blond to struggle from her almost slumber. Their eyes met, and she found the strength to continue. "What do you see?"_

_"What do you see?" Maura asked in return, a small smile gracing her lips. _

_"I'm serious..." the brunette said softly. Maura's grip around her mid-section tightened, and the honey blond leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her lover's lips. _

_"You..." she whispered, leaning her forehead against her lovers. "I see you."_

_A smile stretched Jane's perfect lips, even as her heavy lids slid closed at last and sleep claimed her, Maura's words the last thing echoing in her mind._

It was killing her; sitting here, doing nothing. She couldn't take it anymore. The pain...it was too much.

With purpose, she hefted her body frame from the couch, desperately fighting down the nausea and dizziness that seized her with the movement. She stumbled, barely able to stay on her feet, toward the bedroom that she could barely stomach to be in, forcing down the sob that caught in her throat as soon as that wave of heavenly scent hit her. She tried, unsuccessfully, to not breath, making her way toward the bathroom. The sound of running water could be heard, the beating of the droplets against the porcelain tub cut off for a moment as a body stepped into it's path.

Her eyes were clenched shut even as the water ran down her body. She washed blindly, reaching for the shampoo, conditioner and soap methodically, her body knowing their placement even with her eyes closed. She couldn't open them...she couldn't open them and see Maura's loufa hanging on the hook of the shower caddy, and her $50 high priced razor resting on the platform.

But even thought she couldn't look at them, she still knew they were there.

She was fast about her shower, washing and rinsing with purpose, hopping out and toweling off just as quickly. The smell of everything Maura once more hit her as soon as she crossed the threshold into their room.

She made her way toward the closet, taking a deep breath before she opened the doors. The first thing her eyes saw weren't the suites she typically wore, nor the shirts or sweat pants she wore in her down time. It was the Channel and Versace dresses, the Gucci and Armani heels.

Slowly, reverently, she reached into the closet and pulled, not one of her suits from the closet, but one of Maura's dresses. It was her favorite, a black, red and white number that always had her stomach in knots and her heart pounding in her chest. It was the dress Maura had been wearing when she proposed. It was the dress Maura had been wearing the first night they made love. It was the dress Maura had been wearing the night before...

Her mind was unable to finish the sentence, even as she buried her face in the highly expensive, highly fashionable dress. The cloth did little to muffle the sob that escaped her, but she didn't let the tears fall. She refused to let them fall. Instead, she inhaled, as deeply as she possibly could. It still smelled like her, cinnamon and vanilla burning her nose as she sucked in labored breaths.

She wanted to cry...she desperately wanted to sob until her body finally gave out and her heart ruptured, but she didn't. She couldn't bring herself to, and she hated herself for it. She should feel crushing grief, all-encompassing sorrow, but she just felt numb. Without a thought, feeling or a single tear, she hung the dress once more on the bar, replacing it in her hands with the first suit she could manage to get her hand on.

She dressed quickly, not noticing that her button down shirt was bunched where it was supposed to be tucked in, her jacket hung uneven on her shoulders, and her belt buckle was uncentered. She wouldn't have cared, even if she had noticed. Without Maura to chastise her about her appearance, to scold her even as her slight, pale hands went about straightening her appearance even as she herself smirked, she didn't care what she looked like.

She swept from the room, her body leading her silent mind as she made her way toward the coffee table, grabbing her badge and gun from the exact position she had left them in days before. She clipped them on her belt, and, not for the first time and defiantly not for the last, she slipped the firearm from it's holster. Her palm curved around the handle, her finger poised on the trigger.

She thought, for perhaps the hundredth time in the past three days, about how easy it would be to flick off the safety, hold the chamber to her head and pull the trigger. It would be beyond easy. It would be effortless. It would be an escape, a way out. It would be a release from the pain of living.

But even as she starred at the sleek black handgun, she could hear Maura's voice in her head. She could hear the disappointment and sorrow in that beautiful, melodic voice, even as the honey-blond scolded her for even thinking such a thing.

With a sigh, she once again holstered the weapon, grabbed her car keys, and headed for the door.

Not today. Tomorrow, she could only hope she could force that voice away long enough to do it.

**Parting Words;** Well, there it is! I expect many angry reviews, but I'm a masochist so I still want them ;D Let me know what you think! Much love, Luxor.


End file.
